


Tipping the Scales: A Fish Story

by SamanthaStephens



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Curses, Happy Ending, Imprisonment, Inception Reverse Big Bang Challenge 2016, Kidnapping, M/M, Olden Times, Slavery, fairy tale, merman eames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaStephens/pseuds/SamanthaStephens
Summary: Eames is a merman trapped into serving the will of Dom Cobb and Peter Browning. Can dashing gentleman thief Arthur steal him away?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Inception Reverse Bang 2016 entry. A big thank you goes to my artist, ko-no-yo, who was endlessly patient with me being constantly late and difficult to reach. Go look at the lovely art that inspired me here: http://oyonok.tumblr.com/image/153064964906

**EAMES:**  
Eames never had a mother, which is perhaps why he did not learn to avoid surface dwellers as most young merfolk did. Rather, he developed an insatiable curiosity about them, which eventually led to his undoing.

In his childhood, Eames would splash just below the surface of boats and hide in shallow coral reefs, just watching the surface dweller's strange hunting habits and awkward swimming strokes. It was a small miracle, honestly, that he survived on his own as long as he did, considering all this risky behavior.

But eventually his fate was sealed and he was ensnared by the net of a fisherman with sunny blonde hair and eyes as blue as the sea after a storm.

Eames bared his teeth and showed his claws and tried to scare the young man into abandoning his catch. But he was too smart for that, having heard the stories about wishes granted and allegiances owed that Eames later learned were passed from father to son and mother to daughter among all seafaring folk in this part of the world.

With nimble fingers, the fisherman bound Eames' wrists and said the secret words and Eames was trapped. He felt the curse envelop his body, removing his ability to disobey, although not his desire to do so, thank Poseidon. At least his mind would remain his own, he thought.

It started out easily enough. The fisherman introduced himself as Dominic and explained that he was too poor to catch the attention of a girl who lived on top of a great big hill outside his village. He wanted Eames to hunt for him so that he could increase his catch and make enough money to win her hand in marriage.

So Eames filled Dominic's boat with fish. He brought mountains of tiny sardines, small enough to slip through a surface dweller's net. He dived deep, much farther than any landman had ever gone, and caught angry squid. He wrestled enormous marlin and wriggling eels and bested them all. It was almost fun, at first, when Eames could lose himself in the hunt and forget he wasn't free.

Day after day he increased Dominic's wealth. And night after night he slept exhausted beneath the dock outside Dominic's tiny cottage, which eventually grew to a medium-sized house with a slate roof, and finally a large stone mansion surrounded by a white fence and elaborate landscaping.

On the day the house was complete, Dominic invited his ladylove over for a picnic. Eames watched from the shallows as she allowed him to take her hand and guide her around the gardens, and later to lay his head across her skirts and to press his lips against her own.

That evening, Dominic sat on the dock and sang songs to the moon. He was intoxicated enough that Eames dared to ask if he had earned his freedom. But his master's eyes flashed with anger.

"No!" he cried. "For Mallorie wishes me to seek out the office of mayor, and I shall require a great deal more money to make her dreams come true."

A salty tear slid down Eames' cheek and fell into the sea.

So the nuptials were arranged and on his wedding night, after he'd deflowered his bride, Dominic led her down to the water's edge and introduced her to Eames, explaining the source of his fast-growing wealth. A delighted Mallorie squealed with excitement. She saw so much more potential to exploit their quarry than her new husband had ever considered.

And so Eames' fishing duties were replaced by hours and hours scouring the seabeds for pearls of every color, harvesting pink corals from the reefs, and sifting through the sand for bits of polished glass.

And Dominic's house grew enormous. He started to stay away from home for weeks at a time trading the fruits of Eames' labor for intricately woven rugs and luxurious furs and sparkling robes, which made his wife jealous and angry with no one to punish but her captive merman.

Dominic was greedy and demanding, but his wife was mercurial and cruel.

She'd send Eames far and wide in search of ever more-rare and dangerous baubles and trophies--wooden trunks laden with coins and jewels from ships that had sunk to the deepest trenches, as well as narhwal horns and shark fins, which she said would make her more fertile.

But half the time, when Eames would return laden down with whatever goods she'd demanded, Mallorie would demean their quality and throw them back into the sea.

Eames cried himself to sleep most nights in those years before Phillipa was born.

Motherhood did not soften Mallorie any, but it kept her too busy to torture Eames so often, especially after James joined the family.

Contrary to his parents and elder sister, he was a sweet boy with a tender heart and Eame's only friend, even if he was just a child.

He'd cry whenever his mother shouted at Eames and would sneak down to the docks to sing to him at night and promised that he'd set Eames free when he grew up and became the man of the house. It gave Eames hope that someday he'd have a life to call his own.

Then one night in James' seventh year, Mallorie caught them out, lounging in the surf, swapping stories of what they each would do when they were free of this place--James climbing icy mountains and crossing vast deserts on daring adventures, Eames swimming fast and free with no purpose but enjoying the feel of the current and no errands but keeping his belly full.

When she emerged from the shadows and ordered James inside, Eames braced himself for shouts, for impossible errands, perhaps even for a harpoon through his heart.

But Mallorie was far more clever and far more avaricious than that.

The next morning she sold him to one of the merchants with whom Dominic frequently traded, extinguishing all hope that he would ever escape his entrapment.

Eames was made to swim into an large wooden and glass box, which resembled nothing so much as a coffin, and then hoisted into to the back of a carriage, which bumped along for over an hour. He couldn't even smell the ocean on the breeze anymore by the time they stopped.

Not for the last time he cursed his own youthful curiosity about humans.

He was moved inside and dropped into an enormous glass tank where dozens of tiny fish darted around him in constant fear and sea grass grew anemically among mountains of multi-colored glass beads heaped at the bottom in a poor simulacra of sand.

At first, it was a relief. Anything was better than that horrid coffin box.

But he quickly grew to miss the ocean with such a deep longing that if there were any coral in the vicinity he would have stabbed himself on it and let his life flow out into the tank with his blood.

And it was lonely.

A stone silent butler would drop nets full of living fish into his glass home every few days, but he never responded to Eames' attempts at gaining his attention.

There were two women tasked with tidying the menagerie of exotic creatures and strange artifacts where Eames' tank was housed. But they always cast a black silk drapery over his glass home before cleaning the surroundings. Eames could hear their footsteps and brooms and curt voices, but never saw their faces.

He tried speaking to them once from behind the veil over his tank, but they'd shouted and departed the room with a great deal of urgency. He did not attempt it again.

Of course, it wasn't always famine in this new house. Sometimes it was feast.

Once every few months his new owner would throw a lavish ball and show off his collections to the wealthy elite of the local populace and any intriguing travelers passing through these parts. As desolate as Eames felt during his days upon days of forced silence, having loud drunken strangers tap on his glass and complain that he wouldn't do tricks felt even worse.

At least with Dominic and Mallorie he'd had the ability to travel about the whole ocean fulfilling their ceaseless demands. In his second captivity there was nothing to occupy his time but swimming endless circles and trying to re-imagine his life under pretty much any other circumstances.

He took to rearranging the beads and grass into various complimentary designs. It seemed to amuse the guests to see what he could create for them between soirees. He felt just pathetic enough to slightly enjoy their praise.

Then one night he noticed a young man in a black velvet mask and a very elaborate hat standing quietly next to his tank while the others rushed to the other end of the room to see a newly acquired lacquer box that allegedly contained a unicorn's horn. Eames hoped against hope that his owner had been swindled.

The man was lovely. He was small and delicate, but still appeared strong. His brown eyes were hot with rage.

"How did you get here?" he asked.

It had been so long since Eames had spoken that his voice at first refused to comply when he attempted to respond. The masked man waited as Eames composed himself.

"I was sold," he finally managed to cough out. "Before that ... bound," he added, rubbing his hands against his wrists.

The man's eyes widened. It was clear he knew of the spell Dominic had used to secure Eames' imprisonment.

"I have heard tell of such a ceremony, but never seen its results afore tonight," he replied. "It is deepest cruelty that such a beautiful and intelligent being as yourself be held in captivity."

Eames' eyes stung at the words.

"Tell me, do you know of a way to reverse your circumstances?"

"Must be ... freed by choice. ... No other way," Eames managed to say with considerable effort.

"Even the death of the man who holds your bondage?"

Eames nodded.

"Inherited ... "

"I see," Arthur replied, face thoughtful.

"Hopeless ... "

"Nothing is hopeless. I came here tonight to burgle this crowd of their jewels, but I shall refrain from my baser instincts so that I will be welcomed back once I have concocted a scheme to engineer your release."

"Buy me ... ?"

"If it comes to it, I might be able to afford you. But I should like to avoid giving this cretin money if it is at all possible."

"Please ... anything."

"I promise good creature, I shall return."

He doffed his feathered hat and slid off into the night.

**ARTHUR:**

Arthur loved beauty. This is why he was always stealing beautiful things. Usually that meant jewels or gold or sometimes even paintings or fine clothing. But after meeting the stunning merman who was apparently called Eames and was held captive in Peter Browning's house, he vowed to undertake his greatest burglary yet.

Furthermore, Arthur's entire life had been constructed around the concept of freedom. He abhored cages and traps. He couldn't even sleep with the windows closed at night.

But he puzzled over how to accompolish this greatest of all heists. He could offer Browning money and then free Eames himself. But as he'd told the sea creature, he did not want to enrich that vile cretin if he could possibly help it, not if there was a way to just take from him outright.

As he schemed over how to free Eames from his horrible plight, he also plotted an escape. It wasn't as if Eames could simply walk away. And it wasn't as if Arthur could carry him very far without finding salt or brackish water and fish for him.

He rode tirelessly around the countryside surrounding Browning's house building a strategic plan. And he researched Browning's family and his estate and business dealings, looking for weakness.

Once he even sneaked into Browning's menagerie to speak with Eames again and ask questions about his situation.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you work so hard to free me?" Eames asked, and Arthur couldn't blame him for skepticism after having heard his story.

"You are the lovliest thing I have ever seen and I detest seeing lovely things go to waste. You should be free to live as your heart desires."

"You would transport me home to the ocean?"

"I am devising a plan to do so, yes."

"How will I ever repay you such a debt?"

Arthur's mind filled in some ideas in response to this question, but nothing Arthur assumed he could ask of such a creature.

"Just enjoy your freedom. That will be enough."

In the end, the confrontation was quite simple.

A proud man such as Browning could not abide a challenge to his authority and considered it an insult when Arthur attended his next ball and offered loud and pointed critiques of Eames' tank. He implied that Browning was too steeped in ignorance to know how to care for his own menagerie.

Browning tried to have Arthur removed, but Arthur bested his men, who were weak and ill trained in comparison.

Then he challenged Browning to a duel at dawn. Browning had no choice but to accept.

Arthur appeared to flee into the night, but in actuality he hid in the shadows near Browning's menagerie, vigilant against any retaliatory attempt on Eames' life. He knew it would be a long time before he could rest again, but protecting Eames was of paramount importance.

As the sun begun to pinken the horizon he appeared on the lawn dressed in his dueling cloak, pistols ready.

He presented Browning with the agreement that Eames would be immediately free if he lost. In turn Arthur signed a parchment agreeing to be Browning's indentured servant should he lose. It was his greatest fear, far moreso than death, but he did not hesitate to write his name with a flourish.

They shook hands, marked off their paces, and Arthur drew and fired off two shots before Browning had even properly positioned one of his own weapons.

He hit Browning in the shoulder with one pistol and in the knee with the other. He would likely survive, but the rush to offer him care would allow Arthur time to escape. He grabbed the signed documents along with his bag and hastened for the menagerie.

Once there he found a shaking Eames pounding on the walls of his tank feeling free of the curse for the first time in many years. Arthur hoisted him out and wrapped him in bandages soaked in the tank's briny water.

"We must travel as quickly as we can. These cloths will probably dry before we arrive at our destination."

He lifted the merman and carried him to the stables where he stole a horse and galloped off into the countryside with Eames slung across the back if the saddle before the chaos subsided.

It was hours before he got to the cave and Eames was delerious with lack of water. The bandages were only slightly damp when Arthur carried him, sweating and gritting his teeth, through the winding passegeways into the heart of the cavern where an underground sea awaited.

Eames sank like a stone into the silent water and Arthur feared the worst.

He kept a vigil for nearly as long as they had been riding, too afraid to exit the cave and fetch his meagre supply of food and fresh water. But finally Eames reappeared, pulling his taut forearms up to rest on the stoney bank.

He looked wan, but improved over his state upon arrival.

"I cannot thank you enough for my freedom. And I am deeply sorry to have abandoned you for so long, but I needed to rehydrate myself and to eat. I brought you some fish."

Arthur dashed out for his supplies, freeing the horse to run off into the night.

As he cooked the fish, he told Eames that the subterranean sea should connect with the ocean somewhere, although it would be up to the merman to find the way.

They agreed to rest in this place until Eames was strong and any search party looking for Arthur would likely be abandoned.

Eames would spend many hours each day swimming, looking for a tunnel to carry him home. Arthur sat on the banks and read his books and sketched drawings of how he imagined Eames would look in his element, should Arthur be able to see him underwater.

In the evenings, before sleeping, he would tell Eames tales of his many heist and burglaries, starting when he was just a boy learning at his uncle's knee.

He dreamed at night about touching Eames, about pressing their lips together, about so much more. But finding a safe haven for such activities between men was hard enough in this world. Arthur did not know how a sea creature might receive any such overtures, nor how a merman would even consumate them.

So he abstained from acting on his impulses until the last day, when Eames was sure he had found an outlet to the sea.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can do to thank you for your assistance before I depart?" Eames asked.

"Perhaps a kiss, if you would be so inclined?"

Eames' smile was fierce and predatory and Arthur instantly regretted not speaking sooner.

He knelt at the side of the water and Eames surged out of it, pressing his mouth to Arthur's--nipping at his lips and licking inside.

"Come to the ocean when you are able. I will find you there. Now I understand why I was so interminably curious about land dwellers in my youth. I wanted to mate with one, I just found the wrong man first."

Arthur felt hot to the tips of his toes. He'd never heard such things spoken of so openly before. He'd never dreamed he would find such a willing partner in Eames.

If only they could stay in this cavern and explore each other beyond the one kiss, he thought. But he understood Eames' need to be free and feel the wild ocean on his scales. His heart knew the same longing for sun and wind and rain.

So they parted with another kiss and Arthur promised to head toward the South Sea Islands, where the water was warm and the sand soft and humanity scarce.

Unfortunately, his plan was foiled in the worst way almost immediately.

He was caught theiving in a seaside town where he'd stopped to gather supplies and sent before the local magistrate, a blonde man with cruel, ice-blue eyes and fingers covered in sparkling jewels

Although they could not connect Arthur with the full tally of his crimes, they recognized him as the man who had stolen a horse and a merman from one of magistrate's own business partners.

It had not mattered that Arthur was able to present the dueling contract to prove Eames' freedom was earned. He could not dispute the horse. And besides, the magistrate had seemed to take his offenses personally and was very keen to punish Arthur.

He was pressed into the Navy. It was everything Arthur hated. The complete opposite of freedom. Every moment of his day was scheduled and most of them were brutal. There were regular lashings, due to his status as a criminal, and he was always assigned the most-arduous tasks.

He suffered under near-constant abuse and captivity. The only reason he did not take his own life was the fact that they were ever-so-slowly making their way to the South Sea Islands, chasing pirates whose freedom Arthur envied with a bitter longing.

One night in port, he attempted to desert his ship and sneak away into the mountains. But he was weak and exhausted and his old skills were dulled from lack of use.

Arthur was caught and sentenced to walk the plank. He was not afraid, only sad that he had not seen Eames again after their shared kisses in the cave. At least in death, he would be free.

His hands were tied behind his back and his crimes were read out for all to hear. Many of the men jeered and hooted at him. But Arthur held his head high.

He could see a small island in the middle distance. If he could free his hands quickly, he should be able to reach it, barring any unpredictable currents. He knew that if a man survived the plank on his own, the Navy permitted him to live. This meant that he would either survive to a life on his own, abandoned to a deserted island, or die trying. Sounded like heaven to Arthur.

His heart was steady as he walked to the end. He didn't wait to be pushed. He took a big gulp of air and jumped.

He was already loosening the ropes before he hit the water, holding his breath for as long as he could as he descended, weighed down by his heavy military clothes.

Every inch of his body wanted to thrash and fight, but Arthur forced himself to stay calm.

And then suddenly he felt a hand pulling apart his bound wrists and a mouth pressed against his own, blowing air into his lungs.

Eames had found him and rescued Arthur in turn!

He allowed the merman to breath for him as he swam them to safety on the far side of the island.

"I never thought I'd see you again!" Arthur cried out!

"I never stopped looking for you," Eames replied and rushed forward to kiss Arthur properly as they sprawled across the sand and the surf rolled over their bodies.


End file.
